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Future Fury: August 2004
Future Fury
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Future Fury week 5

Future Fury 1-2 Golden Oldies
Future Fury 2-4 Spencey’s Puppies

“The Day Of Reckoning” (also known as “The Day We Cocked Up”)

Defenders who attack, midfielders who attack, attackers who attack. Friggin’ goalkeepers who attack.

Everyone’s a striker these days, everyone wants a piece of that goalscoring pie.

But defending? Defending is for wimps. Defending is for those kids at school who sat in the library at lunch reading up on the Crimean War, instead of fagging away on John Player Special’s behind the bikesheds and getting skirty with bouncy Brenda.

And so it came to pass … the promotion party was to be a spree of goals, a netbusting fest of pearlers and screamers of the very highest order.

And it was.

For our opponents.

Since securing promotion last week, the club had endured seven days of celeb parties, binge-drinking and award ceremonies, and it had obviously taken its toll on Future Fury, as they effortlessly put on the two gash-est performances of the season in a double humiliation against Golden Oldies and Spencey’s Puppies.

In our defence (not that we had one – fnar) the Oldies had discovered some sort of anti-ageing cream, the like of which is only seen on those shoddy Sky channels, 300 and above. Foxed by this new youthful set-up, Fury found themselves two down in the opening exchanges.

Stunned, the Champions-elect fought back in the second half, forcing shots on goal from Neil, Evs and Dalts. With lairy Jim Cohen banished to the sidelines for a foul tirade of expletives that would have made Mike Reid blush, there seemed little way back into the match.

That was, until the youngest and most inept referee ever to take to a football pitch awarded Future a quite baffling penalty.

With all the sportsmanship of a Kanu / Overmars one-two, goal-hungry Dave D stepped up to pea-roll an ‘interesting’ penalty down the middle of the goal, and peeled away shirt-atop baldy crown.


Or not, as it turned out, for after Big D almost snapped the crossbar with a curling free-kick, the Indian Paul Alcock soon blew up, leaving Future needing a win from their final match against the Pupps to take the Championship.

The match started predictably, two down within a matter of minutes thanks to a couple of fine counter-attacks which left ringer Beeney declaring, “Ah shucks, I’ve been stitched again.” And some.

It was all too much for Future Publishing’s record 11-aside goalscorer Evans, and thinking back to the finer days of Vinnie Jones and Steve McMahon, he took out an onrushing Puppies striker with a fair disgraceful chop to the shins.

Dismissed to the sin bin in shame (although, and I quote “I know I shouldn’t have done it but it felt bloody good”), Fury battled back to reduce the arrears when Smudger’s precise cross-field pass was smashed in by Dalton.

Deceptively looking more solid in the 2nd-half, the equaliser arrived when in desperately attempting get out of ginger Jim’s way, the lardy Evans – running backwards - fairly bulldozed a path through the visitors’ defence, and Cohen made his only meaningful contribution of the night by thundering in the leveller.


Or not, as it turned out … again. In going for the win, the all-blacks were caught at the back (for a change), and despite the Seaman-esque efforts of Rich in goal (*smirk*) the Puppies banged in two more near the end to put the gloss on a thoroughly rubbish 4-2 defeat.

Despondent, disgusted and disenchanted, Future trudged off knowing that they’d let themselves down, but most of all, Jim had let everyone down. Instant talk of free transfers spread around the camp, while statisticians furiously scoured the record books in search of a single more inept display by a player in the entire history of the Elms tournament.

Stat Attack (18 cert.)

Jim Cohen

On the Pitch 25 mins
Sent-Off 2 mins
Substitute 9 mins

Pass completion 1
Goals 1
Errors (Lost count)
Errors leading to opposition goals 3
Expletives (Lost count)
Anger rating 10/10

See you in the Premiership happy campers … heaven help us all!

James Evans.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004
After some fantastic displays, Future Fury were officially confirmed as a Premier League club last Thursday, with the 4 points gained, given them a big enough lead over 3rd placed Standard Chartered to guarantee at least 2nd place and PROMOTION!

Good work guys, lets now go for the title!


Say we are Top of the league! Posted by Hello
Friday, August 20, 2004

WEEK 4 - Team Photo (dan the pub!) Posted by Hello
Future Fury Week 4

Future Fury 1 - 1 Real Maersk
Future Fury 1 - 0 Elsever Publishing

Managerless Future Fury moved to the top of Division Two on Thursday night with another unbeaten night of top-class soccer action.

They achieved their aim despite the controversial no-show of boss Bugsy Malone. Rumours of descent from within the ranks filtered through to the pitch-side fraternity, and battling through a putrid stench of disquiet and unrest, Matt ‘the danger’ Dalton took on the mantle of makeshift boss.

First up was an evidently winnable first tie against Real Maersk, though an over-reliance on defence saw chances at a premium in a tepid first period. The scampering runs of Ginger Warrior James Cornell and top scorer Toddy made little inroads, and the arena was stunned into silence midway through the half when the visitors scored from a narrow angle.

A prime contender for Soccer AM’s Nutmeg Files, ‘shotstopper’ Martin Dickson shook off the disappointment of letting one creep past the crown jewels by putting in a rock-solid ball-busting defensive display for the remainder of the night, prompting talk of a four-figure transfer to rivals Elsevier Publishing. (Okay, I made that bit up, but it sounds good).

Champions-elect Future equalised shortly before the interval when the leggy Cohen unleashed a raking drive from the edge of the box which flew into the top corner … and then proceeded to celebrate as if he’d put through his own net.

Try as they might in the second period, Future, disguised in a smart all-black kit again, couldn’t find a way past their resilient opponents, preferring more to lodge an entry in the new Guinness Book of Records for the most balls lost during a match – at the last count four, though with Gavin on the pitch, some were surprised that the number hadn’t hit double figures.

Without even enough time to fart out the tension from match one, title rivals Elsevier were thrown into the lion’s pit for a potential Championship showdown. Having dropped points in the first match, the winner of this clash would be odds on to win the league.

Future started well, shots from Dalts, Neil and (Future Publishing 11-aside top scorer) Evans narrowly missing the target in a tense first period.

Defending resolutely and breaking at pace with an elegant 1-3-1 formation, Future sniffed out the threat from their quick-footed rivals like a police dog ravaging its sweaty nose through a bullet-riddled, whore-populated crack den in the heart of Brixton’s underground fraternity. Or something like that.

Rich settled a rapidly-tiring midfield as the 2nd-half began, and having missed the target narrowly on three occasions the breakthrough finally came as Cohen’s shot rebounded straight to the alert Smudger to return the ball into an unguarded net. One, nothing. Have that. YOUR MUM.
Elsevier rallied late on, sending a bullet drive wide of Evans’ left-hand post, but Future had survived, and celebrated a crucial win like pilled-up nutters in a deserted warehouse.

Friday, August 13, 2004

Say we are 'Joint' top of the league, say we are 'joint' top of the league... Posted by Hello
Future Fury Week 3

Future Fury 2-3 Chartered Standard
Future Fury 2-1 Elsevier publishing

It happens to the very best. Just as Sir Alex was ruing the absences of messrs Ronaldo, Heinze, Solskjaer, Ruud and Saha on the eve of the new campaign, future fury’s six plucky charges were slightly apprehensive by the task in hand as they prepared for the biggest night of the season with just six players. Substituteless, managerless and with two debutants in the ranks – surely the victorious spell had to come to an end?

I tell you what – it very nearly didn’t, for Fury showed the kind of team spirit that took Jossy’s Giants to victory in 1987.

Standard Chartered were the first opponents and, having been [beaten well] in the last minute last week by the Fury massive, they appeared with swelled ranks (what seemed like 934 subs) and were well up for revenge. They deservedly took the lead, the first goal conceded by the Fury in the current campaign, only to see it evaporate moments later – Jon Todd adding another goal to his spiralling tally to regain parity. Judd added a second soon after, a clever finish with the ball seemingly going out of play, slotted into the bottom corner at an acute angle. 2-1, against the run of play and Chartered again wondering where it had all gone wrong – it was déjà vu of the cruellest kind. But funny, because they’re [not the most friendly group of chaps].

However, what followed was a barrage of abuse on the Fury goal – Dumville being kept busy by the increasingly desperate opponents – it was target practice of a relentless kind. Fury’s defence stood firm – Dickson, Cohen and Ogden withstanding the pressure as best they could. However, with no substitutes to call on and the Chartered lads rolling on and off more frequently than a Chelsea bench, the Fury tired – losing out to two late goals. With one eye on the second game against the league leaders, the Fury seemed reluctant to give 100% and that was to be the only difference between the two sides. That and a goal, obviously. However, Fury’s trepidation was to later pay off as they looked to make amends against Elsevier in game two…

At 3-2 down and with time running out – Fury resorted to childish antics as the Chartered game came to a dramatic conclusion. It was kicking legs and contra tons agogo towards the final whistle: “What did you say?” “[nasty person]” and “Pretty boy” were among the intelligent insults (we don’t work in publishing for nothing) as Fury were left counting the cost of a slim-line squad. Let’s hope the thumb above Evans’ head is relinquished next week…

Hot, tired and concerned with the leaders to face, the walls of Jericho appeared to be closing in on the Fury’s efforts. Recriminations were cast, arrogant Chartered forwards cursed, but in fairness the lads had done well – we just hadn’t been able to keep up with a lack of subs.

Dickson volunteered to go “in’t nets” for the second game, and with the ball blasted over the fence in the warm up by striker Dumville, Fury were ready for the biggest test of the their resources (or lack of). Bizarrely, as it transpired – the game against Elsevier proved easier than expected.

Jon Todd, eyeing the golden boot with his clinical displays, doubled his tally for the evening with another calmly slotted finish (he knows no other way, surely?) to give Fury an early lead. And having dominated the early stages, Fury sensed a shock victory on the cards against the previously unbeaten leaders. That was until Elsevier equalised pretty much straight away, Cohen’s best defensive efforts weren’t enough to thwart a well-struck effort from fizzing past Dickson’s otherwise safe hands.

Cohen almost made amends when he found himself through on goal. However, when he needed to heed his own advice and shoot calmly, he troubled nothing but the fence with a wayward snap shot that left him on the floor, head in hands, wondering where it all went wrong. For a moment it was like Evans had never left….

Todd added another goal to regain Fury’s advantage (any more goals and he’ll be snapped up by Charlton surely? Don’t call me Shirley…), yet what followed as the game drew to a close was a fine series of saves from Cohen in goal (how much he knew about them is debatable) and a defensive display that sparked talk of backs against the wall from the watching masses. Ogden was strong, Todd workmanlike in midfield while Judd looked to waste as much time as possible at every opportunity. Chartered Standard, one of the few teams watching from the sidelines, goaded the likes of Cohen and Judd as a result of earlier exchanges, but it was Fury who were to have the last laugh as the final whistle sounded to the delight of the merry six.

Other results aside (the website’s yet to be updated) Fury could even be top of the table, for Elsevier faced Chartered after our game. Whatever happens, Fury have proved that they can mix it with the best no matter who’s playing, and in Jon Todd they’ve unearthed one of the players of the Championship.

Roll on next week – selection headaches for the gaffer me thinks…


WEEK 2 - Ammended team photo - Cheers Bugsy! Posted by Hello

WEEK 3 - Team Photo: Organisation like this can only be good! Posted by Hello
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
WEEK 3 - Preview
With the Future boys set to face their toughest challange yet, injuries, illness and pure fanniness has left stand in skipper Matt dalton with a real selection head ache!

'Yeah we only have 7 available players, and Evs may have to miss the game as well. I myslef will be at home fixing my flat, negotiating the tactis of the two games via mobile phone!'

Match 1 is 7.20pm against Standard Chartered (the team we scraped a 1-0 against last week)
Match 2 is 8.00pm against Elsevier Publishing (top of the league)

Definites Judd / Dickson / Dumville / Cohen / Todd / Ogden
Possibles Smith / Dalton / Evans
No shows Malone / Melville


Genius! Posted by Hello
Tuesday, August 10, 2004

Week 2 - Squad photo Posted by Hello
Three is the magic number...

Thursday August 5

Future Fury 3-0 Real Maersk
Future Fury 1-0 Standard Chartered

With two wins from two already in the bag, loyal followers of Future’s finest (and Evs) would have been forgiven for eyeing Bugsy Malone’s rotational policy with a degree of trepidation in week 2.

Claudio Ranieri himself would have been proud of the way in which Howard bravely did away with winning formulas and continuity from the previous weeks’ emphatic, albeit rather surprising winning start. Cole and Duff it wasn’t, however, and with Dalton supping on Babycham at the theatre (a brave decision, what with competition for places in abundance) instead of doing his bit for the cause, Big Dave, Judders and debutant Rich stepped in to take up the mantle.

Unsure of what lay ahead, Judd and Rich listened intently to the gaffer’s rousing speech on the tube journey, while regulars Jon and Smudger focused on the task in hand (taking in the sparkling new kit) before the quintet arrived what appeared to be 37 hours early for the big kick-off. Malone’s preparations appeared to be in order, however, until some over-zealous ‘ghetto’ football under the shadows of Canary Wharf appeared to have been too much for Smudger’s right butt cheek….

With a number of flies swallowed and ankles broken (not to mention girlfriends lamented for suspicious-looking stains on several players’ shorts) on the Basra-like warm-up pitch, the plucky five joined up with the rest of the squad to take in the preceding two games. Encouraged by their first supporter’s presence (big Dave’s missus), the whites looked on unperturbed by the overwhelming attitude from prospective opponents Real Maersk as they did their best to unsettle the league leaders, while the suspect goalkeeping and loosely tied nets did little to curb Evans’ enthusiasm. Maersk were pushed hard by Elsevier Publishing, and while the result wasn’t to go Future’s way (resulting in a game of titanic proportions this week), the tired limbs of the Maersk camp were to prove beneficial as the whites took hold of the following fixture early on.

Big Dave posed a gargantuan figure in the Fury goal, while the resolute back line of Jon, Cohen and Evans stood tall against Maersk’s might (and mouth). At the other end Judd and Malone enjoyed a number of early chances while Smith, already feeling the ill effects of over-exerting his ass, worked tirelessly in the midfield. Newcomer Rich did well on his debut, while Future’s task on the whole was made a lot easier when, after several confrontations with the official, Maersk’s lively centre forward was ejected from the game, the pitch and then London. His ‘friendly banter’, no doubt aided and abetted by Cohen’s sneaky tactics and ankle tapping antics, was misconstrued by the official (who, surprisingly wasn’t convinced by said player’s attempts to explain why he’d call him a **** at half-time) and Future, already on top, took full advantage.

Judd bagged the first and had a hand in the second as his carefully directed shot (towards the corner flag) was deflected past the hapless, and comedy slow-motion dive of Maersk’s custodian. 2-0, job done, yet the performance was capped by a fine finish from Jon, who’s left-footed finish made it three. Finished with aplomb, Jon’s calmly slotted effort (are you watching Evans/Malone) was to be the best of the evening, although Cohen’s first half effort, a 30-yard pile driver, must be noted. Yet it wasn’t just the scoreline that impressed the paying punters; a confident defensive display complimented by some silky skills – it was very much a case of men against boys.

Unfortunately Fury’s exertions had taken their toll and, instead of another Furious display in their second game, the Baker Street Boys came out at a mere whimper. Smudger, now walking like he’d ‘taken one for the team’, was clearly playing through the pain barrier in order to help keep parity as Standard Chartered threatened to probe Malone’s upright. Under pressure, tired and sweating like a {sweaty person} in a sauna, Fury’s defence began to open up like an FA secretary’s ‘love sock’ and only some expert stops from both Malone and the post, not to mention some wayward finishing, kept the Fury dream alive.

Big Dave’s foray onto the field of play caused havoc in the chartered ranks, however, while Fury were unlucky to break the deadlock themselves as the game wore on. Judd, Evans and Dumville all cale close, and not so close, with a number of long range efforts, yet without Malone on pitch to orchestrate the substitutions, Fury’s organisation left a lot to be desired. Howard has spent subsequent evenings working out substitutions rotation systems…

However, they say a good team wins when playing badly, and if that’s the case then the Fury are destined for big things as Jon stepped up to score a dramatic late winner not seen since Michael Thomas’s last-gasp effort at Anfield in 1989. Another well-placed effort was enough to ensure Jon’s legendary status for at least 7 seconds, and as the referee blew his whistle to signal the end of the game, the Fury contingent erupted with glee as they established their place behind Elseviere in the Championship race. The chartered camp will have felt violated by Fury’s late winner, yet what matters now is that the Fury are firing on all cylinders and with the title ding-dong approaching, the only problem appears to be who will be left out…


'Bugsy' lets his boys know whose boss! Posted by Hello

Future Fury Football Challange Number One!

Thursday July 29th

Future Fury 2-0 Golden Oldies
Future Fury 1-0 Spencey’s Puppies

Nerves jangling like copper balls colliding in a rusty nut-sack, Future Fury drew a line under their shoddy pre-season preparations to launch into the Elms 6-a-side football tournament at the glamourous surrounds of Island Gardens. The area, cast romantically in the shadow of Canary Wharf and all of it’s structural yawnings, typified the type of grittiness and guile it was hoped the players would show; the rugged sand-softened playing surface the battlefield as Future’s great name was once again lit up, ready to be mocked and bastardised the football world over.

Past tournaments hadn’t offered much hope for the Publishing house’s leg-weary band of football misfits.

Of course, everyone of the squad had boasted of a professional trial here, and missed opportunity there, but were they actually any good?

A stirring, tear-jerking, motivational introduction by Howard (Bugsy) Malone had stirred the troops at the Apollo leisure complex pub the previous week.

Missing only a daft perm and an oversized pair of headphones, the gaffer’s big-match lead-up provoked a stunning 58% turnout for the first couplet of matches.

Golden Oldies were first up, a team who, through pre-match warm-up routines alone, lived up to their name … minus the golden bit.

An early blast at goal saw Jon Todd’s drive fly past the left hand of the opposing goalkeeper and hit his 4ft zimmer frame perched at the back of net.

Fury were off the mark. Some may say they were ‘furious’ for more goals. Get it? Ahem …

The Riverdance-footed combination of Bugsy and Big Matt Dalton provided Future with an increasing number of outlets as the half wore on.

Neil Smith’s McManaman-esque forays down the flanks brought about further sights of goal, and a further reward looked on the cards in much of Fury’s approach play.

Bugsy continued to fire at whim up front, though just as a collective team image of a cow’s arse and banjo gathered, Future secured the points with a second goal from the player/manager who, having been set up on the edge of the box unleashed a firm drive into the top corner.

The ball, hit with such ferocity, seemed, for a split second, to rip the goal net from its rigging. What a strike. (There Howard, that’s a fiver you owe me)

With bus passes checked at stamped at the interval, the Oldies resumed the second period with a good eight seconds of solid attacking play. Yet, before long, their spindly, weak, under-nourished and ageing limbs were chasing shadows again.

A defence marshalled by Hot Toddy and goal-thirsty Evans (who, more reservedly than normal, had only mentioned his Future 11-aside goalscoring feats four times up to this point) collected play and counter-attacked at ease.

No further bulges in either net due in no small part to the Ade Akinbiyi training course that Future’s strikers had been on, and three points were in the bag.

2-0. Job done.

The second match was to provide an altogether sterner test. Spencey’s Puppies may have sounded like a soft touch, but having shed the Andrex they pressured the Future goal from the off, offering Dave ‘Neville Southall’ Dumville his first touch in anger – a pea-rolled backpass from the late-arriving Jim Cohen.

Arms and legs swaying like a demented puppet, Digital Camera’s ginger-warrior sprayed the passes, linking well with the midfield and attack having taken on the initial realisation and tactical groundbreaking technique of man-marking.

With the half looking like it would end goalless – a golden moment.

A slick move down the left channels saw the ball worked to Dalton twenty yards from goal. With options all around the leggy playmaker caught glimpse of a controversial, ungamely, some may say physically challenged gazelle-like creature, pacing through the middle of the park like a spastic duck on heat.

Future’s 11-aside top scorer had sensed a break, and having almost collapsed through exhaustion a second earlier, ran on to Dalts’ pass to hammer a right-footed drive that licked a layer of industrial paint off the inside ( << that’s inside Judders, not outside) of the post before nestling like a young boy on a mother’s bosom in the back of the net.

Having been as busy as a Portuguese keeper in the 2nd-half of a European Championship ¼ Final, dangerous Dumville switched to a midfield berth (ala Big Bertha) in the second half. Chances for Smith, Todd and Bugsy failed to convert into goal credits, while two blocks from Evans at the other end cemented Future’s 100% record in the competition and joint top spot.

There remained one last chance to put some icing on Fury's second consecutive win. A stray Puppie slid into the penalty box and our eagle-eyed ref pointed to the spot. Instinctively, and with cat-like actions, the girth of Big Dave picked up the ball and strode confidently towards the penalty spot.But Bugsy has different ideas ... "lets show the kids how it's done", he summised. And putting all thoughts of Waddle, Southgate, Batty and Vassell out of his mind, he confidently and comfortably shuffled it straight into the grateful arms of the keeper.Beautiful! But the three points were secure and the and the guys were on their way.

Success? Most definitely. Shock? Tangible. Ridiculous thoughts of Future Fury world domination? Entirely.

But, despite the much-hyped return of Nick ‘Peter Beardsley’ Judd for the following week’s matches, would the London landlubbers be brought back down to Earth with a bump?

James Evans
(Freelancer to the stars … and Future Fury).

Official Squad - 2004




Week 2
Match report to be posted...

We won both games - again!


Saturday, August 07, 2004
Future Fury - Week 1
Soon to be added - match reports and squad information

For now all you need to know is we won both games!


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